Conclusion
by Crawler
Summary: Deathfic taking place sometime during the first war. Trowa and Quatre are on an undercover mission at a school, when Trowa learns something. 34


Pairings: 3+4  
Warnings: Death fic, angst. . .first GW fic in a while so quite possibly OOC  
I don't own GW, wish I did. Then I might be rich enough to buy Legolas, or at least Elornd, Glorfindel, Haldir, Celeborn, and/or Gil-galad.

Takes place who knows when during the first war.

The moral of the story?  Don't jump to conclusions.

**_Conclusion_**

The building was worn and run down, a true mess on the outside.  The bricks were a dusty tan color, just like the doors, and the dirt around it.  Looking around, Trowa saw a scraggly tree.  That too, was coated with so much dust that it was as tan as the building.  All the buildings around the school were a dusty tan.  No other life besides the tree could be seen for miles.  The little town known as Lost Sea was in a barren wasteland.  Trowa half-expected a tumbleweed to roll by.  Quatre stood beside him, looking around with wide blue eyes.

"Everything seems dead.  Even the sky isn't as blue."

Trowa glanced over at Quatre and had to agree.  The smaller blond looked up at him, his blue eyes hypnotic in their intensity.  Trowa caught himself staring and looked away quickly.  Quatre smiled.  Looking around, he pointed at a large shadow on the horizon.  "That must be the quarry, the reason this town exists.  It's a wonder the school is so big, since this was only a little town for the workers until OZ came."

"That is why the school is large.  It was built for the children of OZ officials and it's newer then the rest of the school.  A good amount of soldiers probably live here too."

Trowa's voice was soft, quiet.  It was soothing to Quatre's ears.  He reached over and took Trowa's hand, lacing their fingers together.

"This will be quick, won't it?"

"Hopefully."

Quatre looked up again in time to see one of Trowa's rare smiles aimed at him.  He smiled back and released Trowa's hand, then picked up his bag and started for the school door.

Evening found Trowa and Quatre unpacking in their shared room.  Heero had hacked into the system for them and had arranged for them to get a room together.  It made things considerably easier for their mission.  As Trowa hooked up their laptops, Quatre inspected the uniforms they had been given.  Much to his dismay, they were all the same tan as everything else in this town.  Raising one to his face, he sniffed it experimentally, before gagging and tossing it aside.

"You would think that OZ would provide clean uniforms for their children, wouldn't you?"

Trowa glanced up.  "That bad?"

"They reek!"

Trowa picked up the shirt that had landed near him when Quatre tossed it aside.  He sniffed at it, then shrugged.  "They aren't that bad.  Maybe only to your cultured nose…"

Another uniform caught Trowa in the head.  Trowa glared at Quatre, who froze.  Trowa grinned evilly at him before pouncing and knocking Quatre onto the bed.  The smaller boy shrieked with laughter as Trowa mercilessly tickled him.  They stopped, panting, when someone knocked on the door.  Trowa pushed himself up, straightening his clothes, before going to answer it.  Quatre sat up, trying to make himself appear less disheveled.

A girl about their age bounced on the balls of her feet outside the door, ready to burst with energy.  She was tanned, and had dirty blond hair.  She was wearing the tan uniform as well.  Only her eyes stood out from the rest of her, and from her surroundings.  They were green, bright enough to rival Trowa's own.

"May I help you?"

"Are you the new boys?  Daddy told me this was the room for the new boys.  I hope you don't mind me coming here.  What are your names?  I'm Kristin, Kristin Chapman.  My daddy is the head here.  He's in charge of both the school and OZ operations.  Why are you here?  Daddy didn't say anything about new OZ officers coming.   There's nothing else around here though, so I don't see why you're here.  Well?  Aren't you going to answer any of my questions?  Or are you just going to stand there gaping at me?"

The girl had pushed her way past Trowa and was bouncing around the room.  She didn't seem to find herself burdened with the need to breathe.  Quatre slowly stood, extending his hand towards her.

"Hello Kristin, of course we do not mind having a guest.  I am Lance Barentine, and this is Tristan Seregon, my escort.  We are here because Father is currently working in Eagle Ash, but the school there is simply horrendous.  Since this school is run by OZ, Father was certain I would get a good education here, with quality teachers."

Kristin stopped moving long enough to grasp Quatre's hand and give it a firm squeeze.  She patted Trowa on the head before sitting down, bouncing, on one of the beds.

"Are you rich?  You sound like you're rich, with an escort and all.  Plus you got these really nice laptops, top of the line, and you're wearing some high quality clothing.  That and the way you call your dad 'Father' all the time."

"Yes, I am rich, I suppose."

Kristin was about to open her mouth again, but Trowa decided enough was enough.  She was more energetic then Duo, and that was saying something.

"Sir, it is getting late.  You need your sleep if you wish to perform well during school hours."

"Oh Tristan, you know you do not have to call me 'sir'."

"Yes, sir."

Quatre rolled his eyes at Trowa, but sighed and helped Kristin to her feet.

"I am sorry, Kristin, but Tristan can get quite stubborn.  If I do not obey him now, he will find some way to make me.  I hope I shall see you tomorrow then."

"Of course you will!  Bye then boys!  I can't wait until tomorrow, when you get to meet all my friends!"

Kristin bounced out of the room.  Trowa shut and locked it behind her, before turning back to Quatre with a sigh.  The little blond wrapped his arms around Trowa.

"I thought Duo talked a lot, but she was something else!  I mean, Duo at least paused long enough to take a breath, she didn't seem to stop at all!"

Trowa buried his nose in Quatre's hair.  Quatre's presence never failed to soothe him.

"Why don't you try to clean our uniforms up a bit, love, and I'll finish hooking up the laptops and unpacking.  Then we can get some sleep."

"Mmm, okay."  Quatre kissed Trowa softly before scooping up the tan clothing and disappearing into the bathroom.  Trowa watched him go with a smile, then turned back to the laptops.

Their mission was simple.  Quatre and Trowa were to infiltrate the OZ school, disguised as two students, the rich Lance Barentine and his escort, Tristan Seregon.  Their stories had already been planned out.  If necessary, Duo would play Quatre's father, Augustus Barentine, over the phone and through letters.  Heero had ensured that they shared a room and classes, as well as divert OZ funds for them to use, to keep up the impression of Quatre's wealth.  Quatre would provide more of a cover then anything, as Trowa would obtain the OZ files they needed.  Later, at night, safe in their room, they would work together to unscramble OZ's information and figure out how it could be used to their advantage.  The doctors had insisted that the base under the school housed some important information, but did not know what type.  If the mission proved too difficult for just the two boys, Wufei would come as an OZ soldier, to aid them.

The phone rang, unexpected.  Trowa answered.  "Hello?"

"Tristan?  Tristan, is that you?  Where is Lance?  Hurry Tristan, be a good boy and get my Lance for me."

The deep baritone voice would have been completely unfamiliar if Trowa hadn't heard Duo practicing it before the mission.

"Lance, it's your father."

Trowa handed the phone to Quatre, who balanced it on his shoulder as he continued to wash the uniforms.

"Hello Father."

"Lance, my boy, how are you?  I hope your school is agreeing with you so far."

"Not really, Father, it is quite revolting.  Everything is a dirty tan color, and so dusty."

"I am sorry to hear that, but unless you want to go to music school with Ilena…"  
            "No, no, here is fine.  Have you heard from Ilena recently?"

"Indeed I have.  She sends a note saying she and your mother are fine, she sends her love.  She is also very nervous, she has entered a competition that will decide whether or not she succeeds or fails in the school."

"I do hope she succeeds."

"So do I, my dear boy.  Now, I do apologize, but business calls.  Hopefully school improves for you."

"Good-bye Father."

"Good-bye Lance."

Duo hung up abruptly.  Quatre tossed the phone back to Trowa.  "Duo had a message for us.  The information we get is supposed to tell us if we're going to succeed or fail as a whole - all of us gundam pilots, that is."

Trowa stood behind Quatre, massaging his shoulders.  "Hopefully we succeed."  Quatre smiled up at him before pulling the uniforms out of the tub.

"How will we ever get these dry in time?"

Neither boy ended up getting much sleep that night, as they blow-dried the wet clothing.  However, they were rewarded in the morning with clean, dry uniforms.

School was a headache for both boys.  Kristin had attached herself to Quatre the moment he stepped out of his room.  She had a passel of girlfriends who all swarmed around Trowa, none of them stopping for breath as they chattered animatedly.  As luck would have it, Kristin and about two-thirds of her girlfriends were in all of the boys' classes, and the teachers didn't really care much what went on during the class.  As a result, Trowa and Quatre got their ears talked off as the other boys in the class glared at them.

During lunch, Quatre was asked about his family.  He launched into an impressive speech, giving the history of the Barentine's going back many generations, to the start of the colonies, where Abel Barentine volunteered to be one of the first humans to live on the colonies, and then back even further, to the fourth world war.  As he talked, spinning a tale so colorful and accurate that it captivated his audience, Trowa slipped off.  Even the teachers were listening to Quatre, and the man known as General Chapman, the head of the school, was among them.

Trowa had no troubles infiltrating the General's office.  Getting past the passwords took only a moment.  Trowa quickly transferred the files onto several spare disks, before shutting the computer down.  Standing up, he glanced around the office one last time, spotting a small, one-drawer, filing cabinet.  Frowning, he checked it for traps before he picked the lock and opened it.  He shuffled through the folders quickly, they were all school-related, most of them permanent records of students.  One in the back, stuck to another, caught his eye.  It was simply labeled "Gundam Pilots."

Trowa pulled it out and opened it up.  Inside was only a picture of Quatre, nothing else.  Trowa turned it over, seeing a note scrawled on the back.

Winner is by far the best mole we have.  He has completely earned the trust of the other pilots.  It shouldn't take long before he turns them over to us.  Proceed with the plan as directed, General.

            Trieze

Trowa read it again, certain his eyes must be deceiving him.  Quatre was a mole?  Trowa took a picture of the message before replacing the picture and closing the drawer.  He left the General's office exactly as he had found it, making his way to their room rather then back to the cafeteria.  He picked up the phone.

"Hello?  Augustus Barentine speaking, how may I help you?"

"We have a problem."

"What's wrong Tristan?"

"I found a note in the General's office on the back of a picture of Quatre.  Written by Trieze, it says Winner's a mole and has earned the trust of the pilots, will betray them soon."

There was a pregnant pause before Heero took the phone. "Did you get a picture?"

"Yes."  
"Send it to me.  I'll compare it with Trieze's handwriting."

Trowa scanned the photo into his computer, before sending it to Heero.  "Sent."

Another pause, the faint clicking of keys.  "Trowa, you do know, if this is true, you'll have to be the one to remove him."

Trowa closed his eyes, squashing the pain in his heart.  "Yes, I know."

Duo took the phone from Heero.  "We'll get back to you on the handwriting analysis.  Until then, don't tell him about it.  We don't want him to know about this, if it is true.  If it isn't, then you can tell him…" Duo trailed off.  "Trowa, we're really sorry.  We know how you feel about him."

"Just do the analysis and get back to me."  Trowa hung up.  Quatre opened the door just then.

"Trowa?  There you are!  I was worried when you didn't come back.  Classes have been canceled for the rest of the day.  Some problem in the underground base."

Trowa looked up at him, forcing a smile.  Could his little angel truly be a mole for OZ?

"Trowa?  Are you all right?"  Quatre looked genuinely worried as he came over and wrapped his arms around Trowa, placing soft kisses on his neck.  Trowa shifted to cradle Quatre in his arms better.  If Quatre truly was an OZ agent, this may be one of his last chances to be with him like this.  Rolling Quatre onto his back, he claimed the smaller boy's lips in a sweet kiss.

Several hours later the phone rang again.  Quatre snarled at it as he felt around for it.  Trowa hugged Quatre closer, trailing his fingers down his lover's back as Quatre answered.

"Hello?"

"Hello Lance.  School going well?"

"Oh yes, Father, just fine.  I was in the middle of some, ah, homework, when you called."  
            "So sorry my boy.  Stay away from those ladies, you hear?  Now, I need to speak to Tristan, so I can instruct him in what you are allowed to do and what you are not."

"Sure Father.  Tristan, it's for you."

Trowa took the phone from Quatre, smiling as the little blond snuggled up against him again.  "Hello Sir."

"Tristan, I am afraid we have some bad news.  Lance must be withdrawn from the academy you are currently at.  The paperwork matched up here, and I do need to move on.  Terribly sorry, especially after the two of you just got there."

The phone slid from Trowa's fingers as his body went numb.  Quatre was a mole.  He was going to betray the pilots, was going to betray him.

"Trowa?"  Quatre looked up at the taller boy.  His innocent face was creased in worry again.  "Trowa?"  When he got no response, he picked up the phone.  "Duo!  Duo, what did you tell Trowa?"

"Only the truth."  Duo's voice was quiet and sad.  "We know, Quatre.  We know.  He knows too, and he knows he'll have to deal with it himself.  If he doesn't, Heero or Wufei will go to do it.  I can't.  I can't kill someone as innocent appearing as you."

"What?  Know what?  Kill someone?  Who?  Me?  Duo, what are you talking about?"

"Trowa knows.  Trowa will do it."

"Duo?  Are you all right?"

"Trowa will do it…" Duo's voice sounded dead and lifeless, devoid of the perpetual energy usually in it.  Quatre was trying not to panic.  He had never heard Duo sound like this before.

"Duo!"  There was silence on the other end of the line.  "Duo?"  A moment later, Quatre heard a click and then the dial tone.  Duo had hung up on him, something that never had happened before.  Quatre turned the phone off and tossed it aside, turning his attention back to Trowa.  The taller boy had closed his eyes, his brow furrowed.  Quatre touched his shoulder gently.  "Trowa?"

Trowa opened his eyes, taking in the smaller boy leaning over him.  His smile was sad as he sat up, taking Quatre's hand.  "Come, love.  There's one last thing we need to do together.  Get dressed."

Quatre hurriedly pulled on some clothes, watching as Trowa did the same.  When they were both dressed, Trowa slid something from his bag into his pocket and beckoned for Quatre to follow him.

The two pilots slipped out to the abandoned quarry.  Trowa pulled Quatre under an overhang and kissed him fiercely.  "I love you Quatre.  Don't ever forget that."

Quatre didn't know what to do, and he settled for looking pleasantly confused.  "I'll never forget that, Trowa.  Never."  He was scared.  He thought he knew what would be next, but he didn't know if Trowa would go through with it.  I'm a liability now.  There's no way to prove my innocence.

Trowa pulled Quatre close for another searing kiss.  The smaller boy didn't even feel the small blade that cut into his heart, or the blood that stained Trowa's fingers.

Finally pulling away from Quatre, Trowa cradled the lifeless body in his arms, turning to head back to his hidden gundam.

"I'll always love you.  I'm sorry."

Lance and Tristan both vanished from the school without a trace that night.  Kristin was the first to find their rooms spotlessly clean the next morning, with no trace of either boy.  Trowa had returned to the other pilots with Quatre's body and the information from OZ.  Duo had taken one look at Quatre's still form and locked himself in his room.  Wufei scowled and muttered something about how the weak shouldn't be fighting, but he couldn't hide the sadness in his eyes.  Heero had taken Trowa's laptop and set it aside, then took Trowa and Quatre to their room.

The Maguanacs held a funeral for Quatre.  Heero and Wufei were the only pilots to attend.

Much to everyone's surprise, Heero took on the role of comforter to all the pilots after the funeral.  He'd spar against Wufei, giving the Chinese pilot a target for his rage and despair.  He'd sit and hold Duo as the braided boy would either sob uncontrollably or talk on and on about how great Quatre was.  Trowa was the hardest.  He would lie in his bed, as if dead.  Heero ended up just talking softly to him, trying to coax the tall pilot back to the world of the living.

Once the other pilots started recovering from their grief, they went their own separate ways, attacking OZ with renewed vigor.  They all felt that Quatre shouldn't have had to die, and that somehow OZ was behind his death, even though Quatre was a mole and Trowa was the one who killed him.

They would never know the truth.

~excerpt from a note from Trieze to General Chapman~

Winner Marcus has been excellent as our mole.  It is comforting to know that he is taking care of the rebel pilots at the Lost Sea school base.  We're having enough difficulties as it is without needing to worry about the rebel OZ  pilots revolting against us.

The young man in the picture my last note was hastily scrawled on is that of a gundam pilot, 04.  He has not been sited for several months now, yet has not been confirmed dead.  If you see him, you know the proper procedure.

            Trieze

This was written for a contest at Infinity Base Forums.  _www.infinitybase.net_ is just starting to be created, but pub46.ezboard.com/binfinitybase has been going strong for a while now.  It's not just GW, but also any other type of fanfiction under the sun, and role playing games too.  Check it out!

~Spider


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